


Don't Leave Me, My Sweet Aroma

by triforcelegends8



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Smell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4771004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triforcelegends8/pseuds/triforcelegends8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is leaving and Sherlock masturbates to the smell of his jacket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Leave Me, My Sweet Aroma

Sherlock awoke to the touch of John’s hand gently shaking his shoulder. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes open and slowly sat up to face John, who was squatting in front of the couch where Sherlock lay.

  
“I’m leaving,” he said softly with a sweet smile. He patted Sherlock’s arm before standing upright, waving goodbye. Sherlock panicked. What does he mean he’s leaving? After all this time? After all they’d been through? And what caused this sudden need to leave? Was it Sherlock falling asleep on the couch again? He knew John would rather Sherlock sleep in a comfortable bed, but to take it to this extreme? He thought John cared for him. He though they were in love. Weren’t they? Or was it all just a hoax?

  
He bolted from the couch as John picked up his jacket off of the rack and Sherlock yelled, “No!”

  
John jumped and stared wide-eyed at Sherlock in shock. “What?” he asked, bewildered.

  
“You can’t leave. I thought…. why- why are you leaving? I don’t want you to go, John, I-”

  
John smiled his sweet, understanding smile again. “It’ll be alright, Sherlock,” he soothed as he looked down at the jacket in his hand. “Here, take this. It’ll make it easier,” he said, handing the thick jacket to Sherlock. He took the article from John and made a hurt face. John merely cupped his hand to Sherlock’s cheek, gave him a quick kiss goodbye and walked out the door. When he heard the downstairs door slam shut, Sherlock ran to his room and fell onto his bed with the jacket. Maybe he would come back. Maybe he would realize he can’t live without Sherlock, that he needs him like oxygen, that he needs his love, his touch, his presence like a starving man needs food. Yes. Of course he would come back. No need to have a panic attack. John was coming back for sure.

  
He always came back.

  
Now that that’s settled, Sherlock decided to inspect John’s jacket. Dark green, heavy, worn, and smelled like John. Strongly at that. Sherlock relished in the fact that John’s jacket smelled like him. Sherlock laid back into the plush pillows on his bed, jacket pressed to his face as he inhaled the scent over and over again. Goosebumps rose up all over his body as the scent bled into his veins. He could feel his heart pumping blood that was now fused with John’s scent all throughout him, making his toes curl in glee. He smiled widely.

  
There were few times Sherlock felt he truly missed John. Days like those were spent in his bedroom fantasizing over what John would be able to do him, if he were present. He would always take something of John’s to remind him of the man. Clothes, mugs, knick-knacks, and even hygiene utensils from the bathroom. This was one of those days.

  
He continued sniffing John’s jacket and let one hand slowly travel down his chest and stomach, tracing patterns on his abdomen and hipbones where his shirt was riding up and his pajamas were riding low. He gave himself more goosebumps and could feel his member almost half-hard. He quickly ran his hand over the slight bulge in his trousers, making him shiver with pleasure. He inhaled the jacket deeply and pressed down on the bulge, his breath catching at the action. He sighed and let his hand travel up to his nipples, squeezing them tightly, forcing the sensitive pink flesh to perk up. He whimpered and squirmed in place, wanting everything, right now, all at the same time, but also wanting to drag this out and fully, and slowly experience every bit of pleasure.

  
He stood from the bed and stripped himself completely, efficient hands brushing his now fully hard member. The fact that his cock was completely hard already surprised Sherlock, since he had barely touched himself there in the first place. Though it had been a while since he’d had John or even masturbated (it was really just too taxing sometimes). He shrugged and laid back down on the bed, grabbing the jacket from beside him, pressing it to his nose. Leaning to his right, he rummaged through his nightstand for lubrication. He quickly located the bottle, flipped open the cap to squeeze some on his hand, and put said hand to his hard cock. He gave a few firm strokes, spreading the lube all over his member, and sighed heavily at the firm, slick contact of his hand.

  
Once his member was fully coated with lube, he languidly stroked himself at an easy pace. He could feel everything. He could feel the veins up and down his cock as he stroked, he could feel the soft, silky head and how it was producing pre-come, and he could definitely feel how warm and firm his had was on his member. He relished in the feeling of the skin of his cock moving up and down the shaft as he stroked himself and how his foreskin slid over his head when he stroked upwards. He twisted his hand when it brushed the head and squeezed slightly at the base as he stroked.

  
While one hand continued to pump himself, Sherlock’s other hand was roaming freely over his chest and stomach. He brushed his nipples, rubbed his hips, and practically massaged his entire chest with the other hand. Sherlock let out a soft moan as a wave of intense pleasure spiked throughout his body, making his cock twitch hard and his body jerk. It faded quickly, but it only meant that he was that much closer to climax. He sighed heavily and sped up his pace. He bit his lip, suppressing a loud moan as he repeatedly worked the shaft and head of his cock with his nimble hand.

  
He could feel his orgasm building, and it was coming quicker the more Sherlock pumped himself. He was panting harshly now, his breath coming out fast, and he felt warm and tense all over his body. He gripped his cock tighter, his speed making his hand blurry, and he was moaning and whimpering, pleading to no one to help him get off. For some reason, it was proving to be rather difficult to come this time. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t done anything in a while, but he should have come by now. He groaned in frustration and slightly sped his pace and tightened his grip. But he still couldn’t come.

  
He opened his eyes and glanced over to the jacket, laying all alone on the bed beside Sherlock. He picked it up with his free hand, while still pumping himself with the other, and took a sizable sniff of the article of clothing. It sent a spike of pleasure through him immediately and made his dick quiver. He pumped himself hard as he inhaled John’s aroma over and over again, helping him build his orgasm. He took one last large whiff and placed a few very firm strokes to his cock and he was sent over the edge.

  
His cock stiffened and the pure white semen shot out in one long, thick stripe across his stomach, followed by many smaller ribbons of ejaculate. Sherlock’s cock pulsed in his tight hand and he moaned the entire time. The white ribbons of come decorated his thighs and abdomen, and when he was finished, he draped one arm over his eyes, taking a well-deserved rest as he panted hard. As he came down from his post-coital high, he realized something.  
John was ‘going to work’ leaving. Not ‘leaving’ leaving.

  
Sherlock smiled widely and mentally kicked himself for jumping to those kinds of conclusions. Of course John wouldn’t leave him. Especially this sudden and this far into their relationship. All the evidence was there and he was too stupid and love-struck to see it all. Well. He would have to debate whether or not to tell John about his assumptions another time, because at this moment, Sherlock Holmes became very comfortable in his bed and drifted off to sleep.


End file.
